Scorpio's Lot (108 page)

My eyes widened like those of Ben
Johnson earlier. I heard a short sharp cry from Martha.

Darren Burke spoke up. ‘Who are
you people?’

‘How rude of me. Allow me to
introduce myself. My name is Indigo, supreme head of the Traffik Syndicate -’

‘Yes I’m aware of you lot. You’re
the murdering bastards we believe were responsible for the Covert Road
atrocity,’ said Burke, cutting him short.

‘And who may I ask is “we”?’

‘The police. I’m Sergeant Darren
Burke, based here in Pedley.’

‘Thought there was a stench in
the room,’ replied the provocative Indigo, quickly assessing if the policeman’s
attire included any further weaponry or communication.

‘Murderous bastards!’ repeated
Darren.

‘Whether we claim responsibility
or not is irrelevant. My only interest is in locating an entrance,’ claimed the
defiant Traffik leader.

‘What’s your interest in this
underground network?’

‘To destroy Scorpio and the
Piedpiper once and for all. Enough of this talk.’ Indigo pointed his gun in my
direction. ‘Now, Mr Harrison, can we get back to the whereabouts of these
entrances? This is your last chance to provide me with the answer.’

‘I’m telling you the truth, I
simply don’t know!’ I responded desperately.

‘You’re asking the wrong person,’
Darren said. ‘I know the answer if you’ll put that gun to one side.’

‘Very well, sergeant, out with
it!’ ordered Indigo, maintaining his aim.

‘The RSL site is correct. The
entrance lies beneath a small bricked building to the rear of the club.’

‘How ironic and convenient. And
how did you come to know of this?’

‘As a result of a search we
conducted two days ago. A staircase leads from a trapdoor down to a bluestone
basement. We believe the entrance is behind the stone wall.’

‘So why the delay?’

‘Because you bastards blew up
Broadbent’s!’ said Darren.

‘Such is life,’ responded the
heartless drug leader.

The Traffik leader then
contemplated the appropriate course of action. In consultation with his two
lackeys, their conversation had a local plan and was within ear’s reach of the
committee members. The RSL provided Indigo with two scenarios and I could
distinctly hear the man’s authoritative tone override his subordinate’s
objections. He stated that the convenience was one thing, but the immediate
risk was apparent. If only Darren Burke was to accompany them to the entrance
site, the remaining seven people would be left behind to alert the authorities.
To reach the subterranean passageways before the enevitable was an impossible
task, since a sledgehammer would be required to smash through the stone wall.
There was no alternative but to take all eight people. To instruct one of his
lackeys to stay behind and keep watch over the remaining committee seemed
ludicrous. Indigo then further explained he would require every resource when
confronting Scorpio, and besides, his options may well improve once inside the
underground. He then turned to us with a startling ultimatum.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, you will
all accompany us to the passageway entrance,’ he instructed his stunned
audience. ‘Tell me, sergeant, is there a sledgehammer to be found in the rear
building?’

‘Got no idea,’ responded Burke
begrudgingly.

‘Conveniently forgotten, you
mean.’

‘You won’t get away with this!’
snapped Ben Johnson.

‘Your outbursts are starting to
wear thin. One more threat from you and I won’t hesitate to use this gun!’ declared
Indigo. ‘Don’t take me for a blundering idiot, Mr Johnson. We’ve already cased
these premises, in addition to knowing where staff and patrons are congregated.’

With their destiny decided, there
was no room for negotiation or retreat, since three guns were now pointed
squarely at us. Their leader retrieved a mobile phone and quickly relayed a
message, possibly to a further Traffik accomplice stationed outside. It was a
well-planned and methodical assault. Any thought of escape or reversing the
role was quickly dismissed.

‘You will all now follow me. No
bags please and if one of you decides to make a run for it you’ll be shot!’

Indigo led the group from the
conference room through to a broad corridor whose passageway connected with a
rear exit door. His two lackeys took up the trail, constantly looking back at
the hub of the club to ensure no stray eye was watching their departure. All
was clear as the party of eleven made their way toward the back building. The
sudden awareness of a further Traffik thug standing beside the awaiting
entrance sent a shiver up my spine. How many more of these swines could there
possibly be?

Indigo then issued a further
order.

‘Through the door and stand in a
huddled group to wait my next instruction. I already have a further man inside
so don’t get any stupid ideas. Remember, one false move will result in the
obvious consequences.’

One by one we filed passed the
keeper of the door, who vetted each individual entering the darkened and musty
interior. Cobwebs were in abundance and the room projected a distinct presence
of mildew that had accumulated through lack of ventilation. It was an
unpleasant place and the near-black interior reflected an eerie presence. With
all the committee members now assembled inside, Indigo finally entered
illuminating his torch and then proceeded to shut the door. He then walked
toward us flicking his light, which I interpreted as being a head count.

‘Where are these cellar steps?’

‘To the far end beneath a
trapdoor,’ responded Darren.

‘And where’s the light switch,
sergeant?’

‘On the far wall.’

The sixty-watt globe instantly
threw some much-needed light on this gloomy surround. The Traffik leader then
spotted a sledgehammer, chisel and mallet lying beside the adjacent wall and
called on one of his lackey to carry the tools down the basement steps. Without
delay the trapdoor was raised and flung back exposing a spiral staircase.

A man of short stocky build
bearing the name Martin was directed by his superior to proceed ahead of the
group. With the aid of a torch and carrying the tools to help break the seal,
he was instructed to look for a light switch and briefly relay back a message
regarding the basement layout. He would then take up his position and await our
arrival. Although the stairwell light source was adequate, the spiral descent
appeared quite steep and provided no handrail for reassurance. Ordered to
proceed first, Martha and Helen looked particularly vulnerable as they forever
descended the circular path. Ashley Collins and Stephen Buchanan were then
directed to follow the women and to take up their position at the far end of
the cellar.

In descending pairs, Ben Johnson
and Richard Smyth were next to depart. Typically and not surprisingly the
publican recommenced his protest, infuriated by this journey into the depths of
the subterranean passageways.

‘This charade had gone too far!’
he yelled. He roared abuse back at the Traffik supremo as he descended the
spiral staircase. Johnson, by nature, was not one to take kindly to these constant
demands.

Indigo responded in a foreign
tongue to his lackey waiting below. Finally setting foot on the basement floor,
Johnson was pistol-whipped across the cheek, rendering the man semiconscious.
The controlled assault was intended more as a warning, since a badly injured
captive would only become a liability. The attack prompted two distinct cries
of fear from each of the women, while Richard Smyth simply glared in disbelief.

I now accompanied Darren down the
stairwell, wondering what fate awaited us in the basement and beyond. Indigo
and his remaining three lackeys brought up the rear, having switched off the
above-ground lighting and returned the trapdoor to its original position. It
was obvious this Traffik lot didn’t want to advertise our whereabouts.

On reaching the cellar landing I
was surprised at the generous size of the area. In its heyday this basement
must have housed an extensive range of wines for the privileged few. The
architecture reminded me of something medieval with its archaic ceiling and
Gothic style blue-stone patterns. The basement had deteriorated through age and
neglect and was badly in need of renovation to correct the apparent crumbling
stonework.

With eight committee members now
all assembled in the far corner, their leader addressed the sergeant in a calm
but direct manner.

‘Okay, copper, where do you
believe this entrance is located?’

Realising it was useless to
mislead or prolong the search, he decided to come clean with his appraisal.

‘We believe the passageway leads
from either the wall to your left or beneath the floor.’

‘Based on what, a hunch or
something more tangible?’ Indigo leered.

‘That particular wall has
crumbled noticeably near its base. It wouldn’t take too long to create an
opening with that sledgehammer. Likewise the floor appears very vulnerable. You
can see how uneven the bluestone sits, which gives the impression there maybe
little support beneath,’ responded Burke.

‘And your preference would be?’

‘The floor.’

‘Agreed. The women can sit this one
out, including the Johnson jerk. I’ll have you five men take turn in smashing
the floor, starting with you, sergeant,’ instructed Indigo.

I stood to one side with my
fellow committee members, watching Darren Burke swing the hefty and weighted
sledgehammer. He grunted and gasped with each motion of the tool. My heart was
racing in anticipation of what might follow. I guess I had always had an
underlying desire to experience the fabled underground, but certainly not under
these circumstances.

~ * ~

nbeknown
to Traffik and the eight captives, the constabulary was making incredible
headway in their search for the elusive Broadbent’s entrance. Earthmoving
equipment and cranes had been used relentlessly to clear the debris from where
a kitchen and toilet block once stood. It was anticipated this particular
location would result in a positive finding. Floodlights had been erected to
enable rotating shifts to work around the clock. Additionally, with the media
and Scorpio’s prying eyes in mind, Forbes chose to screen the excavators from
this inquisitive lot.

Unfortunately the immediate
vicinity was heavily laden with building and roofing rubble. The pile of mess
would have originally exceeded four metres in height. At around nine-thirty pm
this excessive accumulation of debris had finally been reduced to ground level.
Forbes called on the crane operator to momentarily stop proceedings while his
men inspected the progress and state of the ground.